Without Stories We Would Go

We Plan Our Lives According To A Dream That Came To Us In Our Childhood, And We Find That Life Alters Our Plans. And Yet, At The End, From A Rare Height, We Also See That Our Dream Was Our Fate. It's Just That Providence Had Other Ideas As To How We Would Get There. Destiny Plans A Different Route, Or Turns The Dream Around, As If It Were A Riddle, And Fulfills The Dream In Ways We Couldn't Have Expected.

Literature Doesn't Have A Country. Shakespeare Is An African Writer. His Falstaff, For Example, Is Very African In His Appetite For Life, His Largeness Of Spirit. The Characters Of Turgenev Are Ghetto Dwellers. Dickens Characters Are Nigerians.

Yes, The Highest Things Are Beyond Words. That Is Probably Why All Art Aspires To The Condition Of Wordlessness. When Literature Works On You, It Does So In Silence, In Your Dreams, In Your Wordless Moments. Good Words Enter You And Become Moods, Become The Quiet Fabric Of Your Being. Like Music, Like Painting, Literature Too Wants To Transcend Its Primary Condition And Become Something Higher. Art Wants To Move Into Silence, Into The Emotional And Spiritual Conditions Of The World. Statues Become Melodies, Melodies Become Yearnings, Yearnings Become Actions.

When You Stop Inventing Reality Then You See Things As They Really Are.

The Road Will Never Swallow You. The River Of Destiny Will Always Overcome Evil. May You Understand Your Fate. Suffering Will Never Destroy You, But Will Make You Stronger. Success Will Never Confuse You Of Scatter Your Spirit, But Will Make You Fly Higher Into The Good Sunlight. Your Life Will Always Surprise You.